Escape
by AndiKaneUnderwood
Summary: It was better than letting Eliot drink himself into a stupor to do something he'd definitely later regret.


Escape

By: AndiKaneUnderwood

 **This happens far too often, but to be honestly I couldn't care less.**

 **AU: Soulbond**

 _Quentin Coldwater and Eliot Waugh are Soulbonded._

Quentin didn't expect to meet his Soulbonded.

He gave up on that when he was in high school, wondering why he hadn't already met the person bound by his side forever.

Then he had the dream.

Cigarette smoke and haunted hazel doe eyes flooded his senses with every step he took the next day.

He had another dream, and another, and another and they just kept coming.

After a month of these dreams, he woke up to find a silver pocket watch with wisps of something or another swirling in lazy spirals around it on his side.

After multiple months he came to the conclusion that this _had_ to be his Soulbonded. He began striving to get better because the person he was spending the rest of his life attached to didn't need to deal with him being a depressed piece of shit.

He cleaned up. He took his meds like he was supposed to. He followed the god-forsaken rules and got his shit together.

The night after The Party, he had a dream about meeting his Soulbonded for the first time.

He finally got to see the full picture.

The dark curls, the hazel doe eyes, the cigarette, the smile, _everything_.

The next day, he meets _him_.

And Eliot was _everything_ Quentin hadn't known he needed.

Eliot had been his shoulder to cry on, his rock to anchor to, his soundboard for good (and very, _very_ bad ideas), and the person who listened to every angry rant.

What kind of _friend_ would Quentin be if he didn't do the same for Eliot when it was required of him?

 _Magicians~Magicians~Magicians_

He'd been told a while before he went to visit the Dean.

In that time Quentin learned that Mike was being controlled, Mike was dead, and _Eliot_ was the one to kill him.

Quentin went to visit the Dean and for a walk to get his shit together before he _ever_ thought about going to see Eliot.

It would do nothing for Quentin to go in there uneasy and panicky, it would only ramp up Eliot more.

When Quentin finally felt he was okay enough to go and see what he could do to help Eliot, he was quick getting back to the Cottage.

He'd been away from his friend long enough.

He knocked lightly on Eliot's bedroom door. Where the others said he would be.

(The same others who thought that Eliot only let Quentin in because Quentin was Eliot's Soulbonded.)

Eliot didn't answer at first and Quentin knocked again.

"Go the fuck away!" Eliot shouted back.

 _Not even going to ask who's out here, El?_ Quentin asked through the Bond the pair had shared since day two of Quentin's magical studies short months ago.

Cold indifference laced with rough edged guild and tinged with _more_ than enough pain was pushed back.

 _I'm just here to talk._

There was a pause, then something flashed along the Bond and the door creaked open.

"Thank you, Eliot," Quentin murmured as he stepped inside and closed the door, locking it behind him.

Elion didn't speak a word, just pushed a drink into his head hand and sat on his bed, sipping from his own glass with tears in his eyes.

Quentin copied him for the longest time, leaning back against the headboard and sending soothing thoughts down the Bond not because it would help, but because Eliot had just killed his boyfriend, who he was already falling in love for, with something he swore he'd never use to kill again.

It was longest time before Eliot spoke.

Never once did he speak out loud. _I thought it was real._

 _I understand._ Quentin replied.

 _Do you really?_

 _No, not really. I'm trying to be supportive, but I've not really had a proper love life before so I honestly don't know what I'm doing._

 _Appreciated, but unnecessary._

 _Okay. You wanna talk some more?_

 _No._

 _Okay if I sit here with you?_ Quentin asked, sipping his drink.

A pause, then Eliot nodded and downed the rest of his drink in one go. Quentin held out his hand and stood. Eliot understood the unspoken request and offered his glass for his Soulbonded to take.

Quentin refilled the glass with whatever it was in the alcohol bottle, brandy maybe, or gin, and gingerly handed the glass back to Eliot.

It was too many hours later before Eliot's grip on the glass was slipping and his hazel eyes where drifting closed.

So Quentin gently took the glass from Eliot's hands and offered up himself for Eliot to cuddle with should he choose because he knows it's been a good long while since Eliot had actually slept in bed by himself.

True to Quentin's prediction, Eliot cuddled closer once he got the message through his sleep addled brain that, _no, Eliot, Quentin's staying right here._

Quentin put one arm over Eliot's shoulders and chuckled softly.

If Eliot could let Quentin be a pathetic loser every time Quentin needed it, then Quentin could be Eliot's escape for a while.

Besides, it was better than letting Eliot drink himself into a stupor to do something he'd definitely later regret.


End file.
